This story was told to me by a former police officer in 1996 during a joint trip to a wine and vodka factory. At that time he worked with me in a law firm as a lawyer in economic affairs. He was 60 at the time, so I think this story won’t hurt him anymore.

My uncle was very interesting. Impulsive, after the word in the pocket does not climb, such an electromagnetic. He resigned from the police, not serving until retirement for several years, and for what reason - did not speak.

There was nothing to do in the evening on a business trip and so he told me all sorts of stories from his rich police life. I tell the story as I have heard and remembered. I think that in the terminology of the police and legal I’m wrong somewhere, but don’t be disappointed, I’m not a specialist in this.

A story from the first person.



I worked at the end of the 1970s in a large village near the district center. And I had a local debosher and a drunkard. He did not give life to his wife or neighbors. I planted it several times for 15 days, and in the area he was several times in all slight affairs, such as "going into the cellar, drinking a port wine and sleeping there." And it would be okay for one to behave like that, so no, there were constantly gathered around him all kinds of blurred personalities and local crap.

My wife was drunk often. I’ll take him to the department, get stuck in the corner, I’ll start writing, and his wife comes with a finger, persuades me to forgive him and let go. And so week by week.

Indicators he regularly spoiled me, then hit, then something is broken, then a complaint on me will write. In short, one hemorrhoid was with him.

Once again he got drunk and beat his wife very hard. I was in the district center for my business that day and came to the village already in the evening. From the locals learned the story that his wife he beat heavily, neighbors barely reassured him. The woman was taken to a rural medical centre. I come to the medical center - and her ambulance has already taken her to the district center. He broke her eye and broke her hand.

Well, I think you are such a fucker, now you will not hide behind my heart-sick wife, you will definitely get into the zone. And all of this nervous went to him at home.

I approach the house, and his house goes out through the windows to the street, there is no palace and when you approach, you can see, if the curtains are not shut, what is happening at home. I see - and this fool stands on the board, neck in the loop and looks where I am. See, I realized that now he did not turn away from the zone and decided to commit a suicide attempt to foolishly cut off (and then suicides were always sent for treatment in psychiatric hospitals).

He saw that I was already under the windows, and drowned the table. I first rushed to the door, but then the thought came to my head, sat down on the shop, smoked papyrus. I sat down and smoked in a hurry. He entered the house, examined the body, called the officer, committed suicide.

I fell then from the boss a little for suicide on the site, but the problems became less.

His wife's hand strained, and the eye, as it turned out, did not beat her husband, but only hurt her heavily. The vision was restored later.